The Mortal Lover
by Ghille Dhu the Blue
Summary: A series of one-shots devoted to the mortal parent of heroes.
1. Apollo I

AN:/ What fascinates me most about the PJ series isn't the Half bloods, nor the Gods but the mortal parents and that is where this short piece came from. It will be a randomly updated series devoted to the parents of heroes. Probably it will be the pregnancy or maybe even the courtship that comes before the pregnancy.

Apollo is one of my favourites to write about, so he'll probably end up with quite a few lovers featuring in this. Aoidne might make another appearance, or not, I'm not sure at this point.

* * *

His warm hand was placed my belly, I didn't think he would feel the same sense of wonder that I had, considering he must have fathered thousands of children over the eons he had lived. What was so special about another?

He had swept those assumptions away with the tenderness in his eyes.

This sense of normality almost let me pretend that when I gave birth he would be at my side, we would take our baby home and be a family.

That would never be the case.

I held no grudge because he was this living myth that had dropped into my life making no promises.

Plain old human female compared to his Godhood…

We would- could never be more than what we had now.

Although his love was spread far around, I knew that he was genuine in his sentiments. To be honest, I pitied him more than I could ever pity myself. How lonely he must truly be, to see his human lovers grow old and wither; his mortal children die and not be allowed to weep.

At only twenty years old, I can't even legally drink yet I'm seven months pregnant with the child of a God.

Apollo said he'd noticed me when he heard my voice. He was quick to compliment my voice and compared me to even his muses.

We sang together and our voices seemed to compliment each other that time had been something I would always treasure, for it had been all about the music. It'd been a year ago, that phase had quickly developed into something more and the music kind of was replaced by something less innocent in nature.

I'm not unselfish, rather the opposite, I fear.

Sometimes I rage and weep in that once my child is born I will no longer have his attentions. Perhaps that is hubris on my apart? Just because the Mist cannot blind me, just because I'm named Aoidne and my voice is fair, does not mean I should have the attentions of a Greek God; the attentions of Phoebus Apollo.

"They will be strong." His strong voice broke through my thoughts.

I was startled and shifted from the sofa I had been reclining on, almost falling onto the ground. His strong arms caught me and settled me comfortably on his lap. The gesture only made me felt even more whale like.

I swallowed.

The use of a plural had not gone unnoticed by me and I knew that Apollo would never mistakenly use it.

"It isn't triplets?" I squeaked out, I was scared about handling one baby let alone several. My mother had been a triplet and her Grandmother had also been. Didn't these things run in a family?

Apollo chuckled.

I couldn't help but think _jerk. _

"Twins. Just like Artemis and I, " he exclaimed and the delight was clear in his eyes.

He looked at me with a soft expression on his face. I can't deny that I felt a surge of pleasure at his delight.

"I've had few twin sons and daughters. I hope they get on better than Artemis and I do." He grinned but there was tenderness in his eyes as he mentioned his sister.

I looked out the window of my apartment; night was nearing its end.

Apollo sensed it as well for he initiated a kiss that I accepted and melted into, it was over too soon as he bade me well. He left as always but I knew that soon he would be driving the sun across the sky.

Then when night fell once more he would be with me.

Although, I knew that within the month, or the two, this would all end.

I would be alone.

I would be a mother to twins – alone.

* * *

I didn't look my best.

It was hard to when my red hair was fanned out over the pillows but part of it clinging to my forehead due to sweat. I was exhausted; Lycia and Luke were only now settled in my arms, their hunger being sated.

They were only a week early. I had expected them to be born even earlier as I had read about twins arriving earlier, but they had been stubborn and pressed on my bladder up until an hour or so ago.

They were healthy, which was all that mattered. Also, I already fancied that already the beginnings of Apollo's sandy curls had made their presence known on the twins.

He had been with me throughout the labour, not physically, at least I didn't think so, but I felt his warmth and heard his voice urging me on. I don't think I could have made it through the labour without that even if it was just my imagination.

I knew when he entered the room and I looked up to see the stark tenderness on his face, as he perused Lycia and Luke, who were snuggled into the crooks of my arms.

He took Lycia, placing kiss to her forehead, she stirred and gave a quiet cry as if she knew that this was her father. Next, he replaced Lycia in my arms and picked up Luke, he repeated the gesture.

I bit back tears; I knew this was it that this was the end. Beforehand, I resolved to remain tear free and so instead of tears attempted to hum the song I had been singing when he had sought me out over a year ago.

A faint smile crossed his handsome face and I could hear lyre music play to accompany me, I couldn't help but giggle.

"I got a recording contract." I said to break the awkwardness; the news had come just before I went into labour.

He flashed a brilliant grin.

"I'm not surprised, I'll be adding your songs to my Walkman. They are beautiful, Aoidne. Just like their mother."

I resisted the urge to point out that he was the one they definitely favoured but it would just degenerate our last words together into a typical parent-to-parent discussion, or at least that was what I imagined it would sound like.

"Thank you. You've given me the one gift you can Apollo, but it is time for you to go. " _Please get away, don't rob me of what dignity I have left. _

"Isn't that meant to be my line?" He asked seriously, I looked at him with a sad smile but with no tears falling as I answered with a calm stare/

Only once I was sure he was gone, that Lycia and Luke were safely situated under the watchful eye of a Nurse did I weep and didn't stop until it was time to feed the twins again.

It was to be expected; a Greek God and a mortal could never be.


	2. Apollo II

AN:/ I've been busy, I've written two updates for fan fictions. Yes, this is another Apollo fan fiction, but I'm pretty sure he had quite a few kids **coughs, coughs*** being that he is in impolite terms one of the bigger manwhores. I'm an Apollo fan girl sue me.

Okay, I see it as that the Gods can stay around their pregnant lovers, but can't stick around when the kid is born. Obviously in the case of Poseidon and Sally, if he stuck around it would bring too much attention onto Sally and then Percy. So it was safer not to, if this is wrong, well, this is fan fiction.

* * *

Apollo was not tender when his mouth descended down on my neck, it wasn't sweet kisses; it left the skin of my neck bruised and sensitive. However, he was considerate of the curve of my abdomen, I guess any man would be when the child nestled within my uterus was his.

He could he was tender; normally he was gentle, but I didn't want any of that - I wanted passion. If only to enjoy his ministrations, the feeling of being complete with him while it lasted.

I felt a kicking that shocked me, he was kicking, so I pulled away, I'm sure that Apollo was confused with my actions since it had been myself that had dragged him into bed. Quick as a flash my hand fell to my belly, it was searching for any trace of the kicking but he had stopped.

"He was kicking, but he stopped," the disappointment in my voice was apparent to Apollo who rose in his naked glory.

His skin that seemed to have a perfect golden tan that no amount of sunbathing would ever capture; blue eyes that were full of mischief and a body that one always associated with a Greek God. Desire rippled through me once more but it was fleeting as the disappointment of the aborted kicking once more overtook me. I picked up one of his shirts and flung it at him.

"Get a shirt on."

He grinned but appeased me by tugging it on over his head, messing his sandy curls up even more than I had done, I did enjoy running my fingers through them. Each time he claimed he didn't mind but I imagine it took some time to get them back to perfection.

"He just wants some attention when I was baby I gave Mother a hard time," he rubbed my ever-growing baby bump. "Be nice to your Mom, kiddo. "

"Definitely your son." I mumbled as I felt the kicking start once more; Apollo just grinned and cockily winked.

"Part of my charm, babe.

"Of course, " was my reply that was followed with a sigh.

* * *

"Damien!" I cried out as I pulled my errant son out of the way of a car.

He had indeed inherited the same sandy curls of his father; all he retained from me was grey eyes. At three years old he was proving to be Apollo's son with his perchance for mischief at even such a young age.

I hadn't seen Apollo since four days after Damien was born. At the birth I'd suffered some complications, or rather I'd fallen down a flight of stairs and went into an early labour. Damien had been fine, a little jaundiced. Me? Not so lucky. There had been no broken bones but internal bleeding that the Doctors had initially missed.

Apollo had been the one to save me, it turned out I hadn't fallen down the stairs, it was the work of a monster pushing me, wanting to kill Damien before he was even born.

His scent was strong, and it didn't help I had some Godly blood running through my veins from a few generations back, my Great-Grandmother was Athena. Finding that out since I hadn't known was quite the shock, but Apollo told me Athena keeps an eye on her descendents the few of them that exist

Back to the story, Apollo was able to heal me leaving the Doctors none the wiser. Only I knew that I had been so close to death; so close to going to the Underworld, it was scary to think my poor Damien would never have known his mother.

I'd have hoped Apollo would have found somewhere safe for him – my parents had been only children and died in a boating accident (Poseidon surprisingly was innocent- it'd been a fire on the boat) they'd died of smoke inhalation.

Looking back the months after Damien were born were miserable for me. I guess I had never fully clicked that Apollo would be leaving; he had been such a large part of my life for what seemed forever that the gap left by him was impossible to fill. Especially when I kept looking at what would one day be a near mirror image of his face.

Damien always looked at me curiously it was a cute expression with his lips pouty and his eyes wide and innocent. Not to forget the little wrinkle of his button nose, often I almost forgot my anger- almost, he may look a lot like his father but I wasn't above giving him a scolding.

Don't get me wrong; I didn't enjoy giving him a row. Anything stupid he did was probably thanks to me.

Confession time.

The reason I'd been slow in getting Damien away from the road is simply because I'm expecting a little sister for Damien.

A sister sharing the same two parents not a half-sister.

I guess I was a booty call of sorts; half the blame goes to me because it had been a few years and he was willing- I was willing and things progressed from there.

It just so happens condoms doesn't seem to be effective against Godly sperm.

Apollo was surprisingly eager when I told him; it turned out there was a loophole in their ancient laws. Something that meant he was allowed to stay around a pregnant lover, it didn't specify if the God had fathered another child prior with the same human.

So he gave Damien a miniature Lyre; a drum kit and a guitar. It seemed to me it was favouritism but he pointed out that it would also serve for our second child and I was glad that Damien was receiving some attention from his father.

It was nice to pretend that we were one family; I guess being with a God had ruined me for other men.

I was able to work from home and do my job as a lyricist; I'm not a half-bad singer but never got around to going the circuit and getting a contract. Having Damien young meant such dreams weren't sensible. Really, I was such an idiot, mooning over an unattainable God.

However, despite knowing I'd never get my happy ending with the father of my kids...I couldn't help but not have regrets in the way Damien and his little unborn sister were born (to be born). They were mine, I had something Apollo could never really have, the pleasure of raising a wonderful child and being there for them.

Maybe I wouldn't be an immortal God like him, but my kind of immortality would be in my children and their children.

Stories of heroes rarely ended happily, but I was determined that my kids would have that fairy tale ending, and I prayed to the Gods everyday for that.


	3. Hermes I

You have to believe me that if I'd known I probably wouldn't have slapped his hand. Okay, I really love the made-in-store British style chips that 'Betty's' made. So when a handsome black haired man with these elfish features- a bit of a pretty boy I guess but very handsome grinned slyly as he tried to steal a chip off my plate- I did what any Scottish lassie would do and slapped his hand away. I wanted my little taste of home. Not even some hot American bloke was going to stop me from doing so.

That was the first time I saw him. There was something about him that really intrigued me. As if he was something more than who he appeared as. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd see him again after that.

Wondering was needless because when I next met him he pressed me up against the wall of the ladies toilets. My legs wrapped around his hips as his fingers pressed into the back of my neck and lower back. And we kissed. Or rather made out as if the world was going to end and this was our last few minutes breathing. I'd had a little bit to drink but not enough to make me feel so reckless. I wasn't the reckless girl – well not often. But something about him clouded around me: like a mist shrouding me. His lips attacked my neck and I was giggling. "Not here, my apartment.." I breathed out and it was a blur as we made it to my home. He was leading- I didn't click until after that I hadn't told him where I lived.

He put me on my bed and we made love. He was a devilish lover, he seemed to know the right places. The ones I didn't know. He made me feel so good and I like to think it was reciprocated even if I was inexperienced. Harry Zeuson was the name he told me but something told me he was lying.

I called him out on it.

"I am Hermes, the Greek God-"

I interrupted him and finished his sentence. I know what you are thinking? You believe him just like that but in that moment so many things fell into place for me. I'd read the Illiad when I was in High School; I'd went through a fascination with Ancient Greece and used to fall asleep to fantasies of a Greek God coming to me...I guess I was a bit of a vividly minded teenager.

I looked at his body, the chiselled and athletic frame that defied expectations. There. Was. ... "This is bloody insane." I said before I could stop myself. Then I fainted.

* * *

"Have you ever heard of condoms?" I said bluntly towards Hermes as he shifted embarrassedly. Jeez. You would think for a several thousand year old God he'd be a bit less embarrassed about getting the safe-sex talk. Of course it wasn't as if he was the one who was pregnant. Not to mention I was currently without any bras. Now you might think it was stupid, but I'm normally quite buxom with natural 36DD's but pregnancy, wow, did it make the girls bloom.

He finally caught his bearings and grinned devilishly. I knew I was going to be the one blushing like a flamingo. "Sometimes a man and a woman are so attracted to each other, they feel as if they are going to combust if they don't.."

"Okay, I get it. I get it." I answered, he always won when it came to making me blush, I guess he'd seen, heard and done it all. I picked up a hair brush and ran it through my red hair. Got anything to say about that? I'm a Scot who has a family line that is believed to go back to the time of the Picts. A Pictish Royal House actually. That is largely speculation though. It can be accurately traced to the Mackay Clan and lastly an offshoot of said Clan. We have our own Tartan and Coat of Arms. Go my family! I'm named for my maternal Grandmother, who is actually from an Irish family. A rather wealthy Irish family. The name is Faye Mackie (Mac-Kay not Mac-kai)

Hermes was enraptured by my red hair, he loved letting his dexterous fingers run through it. Being the God of thieves and all- his fingers were nimble and made something as simple as that pleasurable. I guess I felt a little proud that my hair fascinated a Godly guy like Hermes. There was a bit of shame in me that I was being so unlike me. I guess love can do that to even someone like me who got into her first fight to protect her older sister who was being bullied. I pushed the girl bullying her off a stationary school bus and laid in to her. I was only six at the time.

My point is that I'm not the typical type who falls head over heels and acts like a total sap. It isn't me but with Hermes it didn't seem to bother me that I was just one of many lovers. I accepted it.

His attentions made me happy, being with him was all I wanted. But it couldn't last.

Hermes often spoke to me. He told me about a woman named May that he had loved and what befell her. I couldn't help but feel sad for him and her. As the months passed and my pregnancy became visible, he seemed to brighten. He was always there to make sure I got to my prenatal appointments on time and took the right vitamins. I pointed out he'd been born in a cave. He retorted that one just had to look at how he turned out.

Lies. It would be lies if I said that the pregnancy was easy for me. I suffered nearly all the maladies women sometimes suffered from. I dropped weight everywhere but the stomach. It wasn't as if I'd been overweight before. I'd been a trim size eight. I just couldn't keep food down for the first trimester and part of the second. It got bad. To the point that my Doctor debated admitting me and putting me on a drip.

* * *

Like magic at eighteen weeks I craved one of those awful Hot Dogs with onion, mustard and tomato sauce (ketchup) and boy did I eat it. It was probably one of the best things I'd ever eaten. It seemed that way at least. Until I munched my way through my first after Big Mac. Hermes learned that when he popped in he better bring food. I was totally making up for the months of weight loss.

Hermes found it amusing. During one of my mood swings I kicked him out my apartment. To his credit I knew he could have easily broken in but instead he stewed outside. It felt great. An absolute power trip. Although after fifteen minutes I felt bad and began making some stew for him after letting him in.

The last months passed by without much trouble. The maladies minus backpain seemed to ease off almost completely. But I spent a lot of the time when Hermes wasn't about crying. What had I gotten myself into? It was alright for Hermes, he would not be the one left alone with a newborn baby. He wouldn't be a single parent. Money wasn't the issue for me. My mother had been a popular eighties singer. She made a fair fortune, nothing compared to what these modern singers had, but she had left me a well managed fortune. It wasn't as if I didn't work. I just didn't want to be alone.

Sure, I'd have my baby but even if I met another man...would any compare to a Greek God? Was I ruined for a normal man? I was thirty nine weeks pregnant when my baby decided that he didn't want to wait. At first I thought it was just those false ..something hicks but when my waters broke- I realised that maybe it wasn't. My best friend Lydia came when I called her and was the one who took me to the Hospital. She was the one who held my hand and helped me through it as my birthing partner. Was there when only seven hours after admittance I gave birth to a healthy baby boy.

It almost hurt to look at him. He definitely took after his Daddy, that was for sure, I couldn't see any of my features at first and I felt angry. Was this some cosmic joke that was going to make me look at a mirror image of the guy I could never be with? But then he cried and everything fell into place. This little baby was mine. He was mine. It was crazy, right? But holding him and trying to calm him with softly spoken murmuring of promises to never leave him, I felt as if everything could be okay.

I named him Kyle. I'd always liked the name and it was a bit like the name of the Mountain that I remembered from mythology that was related to Hermes. When I was given the chance to sleep, with Kyle sleeping soundly in a cot, Hermes visited. I knew this because there was a sheep teddy left. He'd visited.


End file.
